viness of his body, though his
appearance was not actually abnormal. Rather, he gave the impression of
being a man of powerful physique and ascetic habits. His dress was that
of a herdsman, or possibly of an owner of herds from the northern
Galankar.

Musa arose, to face him.

"Some sleeping rugs, perhaps? Or a finely worked bronze jar from the
East?"

The stranger nodded. "Possibly. But I would like to look a while if I
may."

Musa stepped aside, waving a hand. "You are more than welcome, friend,"
he assented. "Perhaps some of my poor goods may strike your fancy."

"Thank you." The stranger moved inside.

Musa stood at the entrance, watching him. As the man stepped from place
to place, Musa noted that he seemed to radiate a certain confidence.
There was a definite aura of power and ability. This man, the trader
decided, was no ordinary herdsman. He commanded more than sheep.

"You own herds to the North?" he asked.

The stranger turned, smiling. "Lanko is my name," he said. "Yes, I come
from the North." He swept a hand to indicate the merchandise on display,
and directed a questioning gaze at the merchant. "It seems strange that
your goods are all of the East. I see little of the West in all your
shop."

* * * * *

Normally, Musa kept his own council, assuming that his affairs were not
public property, but his alone. There was something about this man,
Lanko, however, which influenced him to break his usual reticence.

"I plan a trading trip to the Eastern Sea," he confided. "Of course, to
carry eastern goods again to the East would be a waste of time, so I am
reserving my western goods for the caravan and clearing out the things
of the East."

Lanko nodded. "I see." He pointed to a small case of finely worked
jewelry. "What would be the price of those earrings?"

Musa reached into the case, taking out a cunningly worked pair of shell
and gold trinkets.

"These are from Norlar, a type of jewelry we rarely see here," he said.
"For these, I must ask twenty balata."

Lanko whistled softly. "No wonder you would make a trip East. I wager
there is profit in those." He pointed. "What of the sword up there?"

Musa laughed. "You hesitate at twenty balata, then you point out that?"

He crossed the tent, taking the sword from the wall. Drawing it from its
scabbard, he pointed to the unusually long, slender blade.

"This comes from Norlar, too. But the smith who made it is stil